


Toast: To Us

by orphan_account



Category: Persona 3
Genre: F/F, Long Distance Relationship, pure fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-24
Updated: 2014-10-24
Packaged: 2018-02-22 10:13:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2504123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Long distance relationships, and the growing need for a good cuddle. Yukari stars for her next big role in a children's T.V. show while Mitsuru works on fixing a broken company, and all the two can do is think about each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Toast: To Us

**Author's Note:**

> **words:** 1394  
>  **pairing:** mitsuru kirijo/yukari takeba  
>  **a/n:** haha i wrote yukamitsu at 1 a.m. when i need to go to sleep. i'll proofread this later. just a series of drabbles shoved together.  
>  **edits:** _10/24_ : fixed some spelling/grammatical errors. also added like one sentence. no biggy.

One tap.

Two taps.

A flickering screen, and an indulging sigh. Obnoxious and exaggerated, though the tone of disappointment was ever-present in the air. Outside, sunlight had melted away into the darkness of night, and now only the presence of midnight remained – the tinted green shade she once expected to envelop the drapes no longer came with the turning of the clock.  The brunette shifted in her bed uneasily: a common habit she had spent two years trying to break, but could never quite do so. She hummed accordingly; mimicking the sound of a cell phone that sat expectantly on the sheets of the hotel bed.

Another quick glance. Nothing. Yukari stretches onto the length of the bed, rests the nape of her neck on the board, and lets the phone fall gently to her collarbone. The sounds of the bustling city deafen her flattened ears, so she presses two side of a pillow against her temples – the clock ticks again, though she can barely hear the sounds through the thick cotton.

It is the vibrations against her chest that cause her to reach for her phone, take it into manicured hands with finely-trimmed, albeit short, fingernails, and unlock it with a swipe of her thumb. The message is clear:

_“Sorry. I’m exhausted. I’ll call you tomorrow. Okay?”_

Her eyes dejectedly fall to her lap, but her fingers respond accordingly:

_“k. gnight. luv ya”_

__A moment later, the recipient responds in kind. A smile – large, unprompted, and quite silly – dawns on her lips, toes curling into the sheet. She really should be asleep, she knows. And yet, she rambles on and on, until her eyelids are dreary with sleep, and she realizes restraint is a blessing. She happily clicks the lamp beside her bed off.

Filming simply can’t be over quick enough.

 

Without a moment to spare, Mitsuru reaches for her phone the minute the meeting has concluded.

A swarm of people rush out of the building – Kirijo employees and other figureheads alike – but Mitsuru somehow manages to avoid the daily paperwork stack and conference calls to slip into a hallway. Her heels are loud and click against the black and white tiles with each step; she quite literally _tiptoes_ into the nearest room and silently shuts the door.

The phone rings, and she taps her heel impatiently.

“Hello?” She can hear Yukari’s confused, dazed voice over the line.

“Yukari? –Oh, I nearly forgot, it’s….”

“Like, almost ten where I am, yeah. Timezones are hard to manage, though.”

Mitsuru sighs into the line, and she can almost _hear_ Yukari’s brow raise.

“Mitsuru? Just got out of your last meeting, huh?”

“They’ll do anything to squabble over the Kirijo name –“ she says, rather abruptly,  “I simply can’t allow them an opportunity to do so.”

“And that includes overworking yourself? Jeez, Senpai, give yourself a break sometime, y’know? I mean, without me around to make sure you’ve at least got a blanket over you when you’re passed out over the desk – who knows how long you’ll stay up ‘till?”

 _Without me around._ Mitsuru wishes she hadn’t been reminded. Between Yukari filming the next season of _Phoenix Ranger Featherman R_ and Mitsuru caught between business and finances the two haven’t seen each other in awhile. And it’s difficult to find time to do so when there’s a few hundred miles between the two.

“Yukari, you’ve no need to worry over me. Concentrate on the show.”

“It’s kinda hard to do that when my _girlfriend_ sorta forgets to call me, y’know?”

“Says the woman who spends nearly the entire day filming.”

“Says the woman who doesn’t know ramen etiquette _._ ”

She’s never been good at banter, but this draws a horrible, horrible memory, and a shudder. Ever since their first date at Wuck’s, Mitsuru had become somewhat… _apprehensive_ about trying new places, and a ramen shop notoriously known for high sodium levels was the last place Mitsuru wanted to be.

“Hey, uh, Mitsuru? Do you remember that one place in Paulownia Mall? Chagall Café?”

Her apparently silence had prompted the girl over the line to speak. She clears her throat and swings herself back into consciousness.

“Of course. Why do you ask?”

“Well, I was thinking maybe when I get back, we could go there? It’s been a long time since I’ve been, so I thought it’d be nice to spend some time together.”

She smiles and nods with the phone pressed against her ear, though realizes Yukari cannot see this action. Somehow, she thinks Yukari _knows_ when the brunette giggles over the line, leaving a flustered Mitsuru glancing through the glass window of the door and into the rest of the building. Quietly, she presses her back against the door, and says only a few words before flipping her cell phone shut and stepping back out into the hallway:

“Y-yes, of course. I’d love that.”

 

“Sorry, I’m just feeling _really_ cuddle-y right now.”

Yukari sees the redhead through the constant light of the screen, palms pressed beneath her chin on a mountain of pillows and elbows splayed to the side, off-camera. Her knees bend, legs hang in the air, and she watches as Mitsuru – glory beheld in her stark underpants and pajama top – scoots closer to the computer. Though outside stars paint the sky a vibrant violet, with streaks of blue lining the crest of the hill, her attention is completely captured by the redhead, both voluntarily and involuntarily. She raises a brow when her hands go off-camera, doing _something_ out of view.

“I understand how you feel, but I’m not even sure that’s a word, let alone a feeling. Perhaps you should sleep—“

“Trying to get rid of me, huh, Mitsuru-senpai?”

“T-that’s not at all what I was…”

Rather than beat a dead horse, she’s caught under the gaze of Mitsuru’s flattened lips, slowly curving into a sly _smile_. “There’s no need to call me senpai anymore.”

“Force of habit.”

“Yukari—“

The brunette shifts when she feels the numbness drifting her arms to sleep, and angles the camera upwards so that the viewing portal doesn’t only catch her chin. “Lighten up a little, Mitsuru. It’s late, and _I’ve_ got some wine.”

“As do I.” Apparently she was filling a glass with a darkened liquid: red wine. Mitsuru’s classical favorite. Yukari can practically smell the tartness from the other side of the camera.

“Then, should we have a toast?”

“To what, exactly?” Her fingers, nails coated in a red polish, only slightly longer than Yukari’s own, grip the curve of the glass.

“For making this work. And for somehow surviving for almost two years. Our anniversary is coming up soon, right?”

“Correct,” she says, almost matter-of-factly, but even Yukari can see the faintest hint of a blush hidden by her lump of magnificent hair, mixing with the flushness of the wine. At the same time as Yukari, she reaches forward with her glass, _clinks_ it against the screen, and sips. “To us, then.”

“To us.”

Later would come tipsy giggles and a trail of saliva leading from Yukari's slightly-parted lips to the frame of the laptop.

 

Truth be told, she’s always hated airports. Well, maybe hated was a bit too strong of a word: disliked was better used. The lines were far too long, and the food wasn’t that great. The souvenirs were pointless (and what store sold an umbrella for almost _five thousand_ yen?), and better-yet, she couldn’t find a damn charging station that wasn’t already preoccupied.

But everything was worth it. The wait, the delays, the exhaustion. Everything was worth it when she finally stood from her seat, watched the brunette roll in with a pink leather suitcase in tow – worth it when she was finally able to run forward, wrap her arms around her in a tight embrace, smell the scent of apple shampoo she’d obviously just used last night, and her senses were _overflowed_ with everything _Yukari_.

When they finally pull away from the embrace, Mitsuru instantly leans forward to plant her lips – coated with lipstick – on Yukari’s chapped ones, and she’s been literally starving for this feeling since – since forever, really. Upon pulling apart, Mitsuru entangles their fingers, laces them together, and pulls her along towards the Kirijo limo. Standing at the door, waiting for them, is Kikuno, who flashes a rather tryst smile.

“Let’s go home, Yukari.”

That is all she needs to say as the two walk, hand-in-hand, and she simply can’t wait to shove her into bed and fall asleep on her shoulder.


End file.
